I got married a month ago to the sweetest man I’ve ever known. Almost too sweet. He’s handsome, attentive, great in the bedroom. He works hard and would rather do all the housework while I drink wine. He worships the ground I walk on. I love him and I’m good to him, but sometimes I think about you. You wouldn’t have been the “perfect husband” but you would have pushed me. I have grown soft. I miss you.